


play your game

by bokutoma



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Being Anders, F/M, Hawke Family Feels, Hawke Flirts, Hawke Has Issues, Hawke is Bad at Feelings, Moody Anders, anders is a little more awakening era than usual, as per usual, leandra hawke is a bitch, we stan anarbor in this house
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 15:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15998540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokutoma/pseuds/bokutoma
Summary: marian hawke has always done what leandra has wanted of her, whether it was dressing up like a noblewoman to ease the loss of bethany or corset both her body and personality, but when leandra decides that it's high time her already unmarketable daughter settles down, lest she be seen as damaged goods, marian decides that it's past time to rebel.who better to rebel with than her dearest, rather attractive friend?





	1. crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a husband? marian would pass on that. loud, obnoxious, wall-shaking sex with her best friend? that option was looking infinitely more appealing by the moment

Marian was not necessarily what one would call well-mannered. Unlike her sister, she had no delicate feminine grace, nor did she possess the ability to flutter her lashes and have the world fall at her feet. She did not sway her hips with seductive precision or know which fork to use at any given moment. She would rather gamble with the lowlifes in the Hanged Man than wine and dine the "eligible" bachelors of Hightown, and she would never dream of letting any man fight her battles for her.

Needless to say, she was the family disappointment.

"Marian, dear," Leandra said, using that peculiar tone that only came out when haggling with unscrupulous merchants or chastising her eldest. "Perhaps it's time we think about getting you a husband."

 _"What?"_ Marian gaped, only half done with her current mouthful of food. Leandra sighed. "Pardon me, but I think I misheard you."

"Don't speak until you're finished chewing, Marian. And you heard me right. It's high time you've met with the men around your age. It's your duty to maintain the Amell family lineage, especially since Bethany..."

The mood at the table soured significantly. It had been a source of contention between the two women for ages.  _Marian, if you had brought Bethany, she wouldn't be in the Circle. Marian, if you had been faster, we could have paid whoever leaked the information._

_Marian, it's your fault that your sister is trapped._

"I'm a Hawke, Mother," she said once she had managed to surface from the rising tide of self-loathing and shovel another spoonful of stew into her mouth. "The _Amell lineage_ doesn't exist anymore."

Leandra gave her a hard look. "The Amell lineage persists through you, Marian, and it's your responsibility to make a good match."

"Like you did?"

The only signs that Leandra was angry were the tightening of her fist around her spoon and the emergence of wrinkles that never made an appearance unless Marian had done something dreadfully wrong, like track mud in the house or bring home the sister of the boy her mother had picked out for her in Lothering. "Marian. You  _will_ be having lunch with the seneschal's son in five days time, and you  _will_ make a good impression. Don't you think you owe your sister that much?"

And of course, that was the end of the discussion.

* * *

The first rule that Marian had developed since living in Kirkwall was simple: the minute things turned sour on a personal or professional level, flee to the suite Varric had in the Hanged Man. It had served her well, and currently, as she worked her way through the fifth flagon of shit ale, sprawled across his bed, she would say it was doing a damn good job of numbing the day away. 

"You gonna tell me anything now that you've tripled my tab, Hawke?" Varric asked, raising his eyebrow over a pair of reading spectacles. He looked particularly pretentious today, and the thought just caused her to groan and roll over, ale sloshing dangerously.

"Mother's trying to get me hitched," she slurred. "Seneschal's son, viscount's son, I dunno. Just...someone in Hightown. Thinks I owe it to Bethy."

Varric sighed deeply. Marian was rather inclined to agree.

"Fix it, Varric. You're the smart one."

"Hey, that's not fair, Hawke. Broody is plenty smart if you can get him to stop snarling at everyone."

Marian rolled over and shot him a glare. "What do I do?"

"Introduce her to this talented dwarven entrepreneur you know? I hear I'm very marketable, and I work in the gaudiest part of Hightown." A sly smile curled at the edge of his lips, and Marian pointed at him in an accusatory manner.

"You were probably the one that did this to me," she said bitterly. "Probably getting back at me for the nug I left in your room."

His eyes narrowed. "That was  _you?"_

Noting the look in his eyes, she swayed unsteadily back to her feet and gave him a shaky salute. "Thanks for the drink," she said, attempting subtlety as she edged toward the door, hand on the handle. "I should probably go, uh, drink on someone else's tab now."

" _Hawke-"_

She slammed the door closed before he could say anything else, then tipped face first into someone's chest. 

They stumbled for a few moments before a combination of her balance and the stranger's arms kicked in, and she mumbled out something that was meant to be an apology.

"Feeling alright there, Hawke?"

Maker, she knew that voice.

* * *

 "Are you telling me you're  _this_ drunk off of a few glasses of Corff's shit ale?" Anders asked, an elusive smile threatening to peek past his serious exterior. 

"All of the things I told you, and that's what's sticking out to you?"

He merely shrugged. "I'd think you'd be better than that, Hawke. That's all."

She narrowed her eyes, adjusting on the thin pallet in his clinic that she'd flopped down on upon entering. "That a challenge, lightweight?"

He laughed, short and shallow, but to her, it feels like drowning. "I'm not that much of a fool."

It was the worst idea she'd ever had. She was almost certainly still drunk off her ass. His body was not a host solely to him. There were a thousand reasons why she should turn tail and flee back up the stairs, sit quietly for dinner, and hope for the best.

The left corner of his mouth tilted up first when he smiled.

"What are you plotting?" he asked, like he didn't already know, like every moment she spent laying in his bed wasn't encouraging this foolishness. 

For all that she felt close to him, he was still inscrutable, the look in his eyes a mystery. 

She was stupid, foolish, bold enough to take the leap.

Marian got up, strode over to him with all the feline grace she had gained in her years of training, straddled his lap, and kissed him. Hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a collective moment of silence for my mental health
> 
> check me out on tumblr @alistcir


	2. guess we're off to a heavy start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hawke and anders get down and dirty
> 
> surprisingly wholesome sexual content

Marian wasn't sure what she had expected Anders to kiss like, but it certainly wasn't this. 

His hands flew to her face and her hip, grasping her, pulling her closer in a tidal wave of passion. She gasped, surprised at the surety of his hands, all meekness and wallflower tendencies gone, and he took that time to deepen the kiss, tongue running along the seam of her mouth until she opened up for him. He didn't part from her until she was breathless, panting with desire and a heady mix of ale, elfroot, and lyrium. 

"I'm not sure what that was for," he said, recovering before she could. "But I'm not at all opposed."

She laughed, tilting her head so she could rest it on his shoulder and attempt to quiet the spinning in it. "Nothing much. Would rather kiss you than any of the idiots I'll have to meet with."

"Thanks, Hawke. Such a lovely compliment."

She grinned and bit at his shoulder playfully, causing him to shudder. His hand ghosted down from her hip, resting just above her ass, and Marian couldn't remember the last time she had been so...content. "Only the best for you."

They sat in silence like that for what could have either been an eternity or a couple seconds, she didn't know. Either way, there was something comfortable about being there with him, pressing kisses against the side of his neck as his hands mapped her out. 

"How mad would your mother be if she knew where you were right now?" he asked out of the blue. "Considering that you're supposed to be figuring out how to act all noble and proper to seduce yourself a husband of good standing."

"Manners are the opposite of what I need to seduce someone, good standing or no," she said, wiggling her hips for emphasis.

Anders grasped her hips with surprisingly strong hands, holding her still to the best of his ability. "Of that, I have no doubt," he said, lips twisting into a wry smile. "Your cruelty knows no bounds."

"What about yours? You're all...seductive and and righteous. It's not fair."

He grinned at that, and it struck her for the first time how truly handsome he was. He had always been good looking, even with his face lined with exhaustion and streaked with remnants of herbal paste from where he had wiped his brow carelessly, but something about the way he looked made her ache to know him when he wasn't quite so beaten down. 

Although, perhaps there had never been a time like that for him.

"I'm glad you find my noble cause to your tastes, Lady Hawke," he said, pressing a kiss to the column of her throat. She shivered. "If you want, I can lecture you about the freedoms mages deserve using my most booming, sexual voice."

"Mm, I'd like that." With a sudden boldness, she laced her fingers with his and rose, tugging him up and toward his bed. There was a faint part of her that wondered at her vulnerability; she hadn't been this open with anyone in years. She was used to being the pursuer, to be certain, but never had she been so hopeful, so committed to wanting a conquest. "I think I'll hear you better if you're on top of me, though."

A faint flush rose to his cheeks as he laughed, tilting his head back. "You're a brave woman, Hawke," he said.

"Marian."

A gentle smile crossed his face. "Alright. Marian, then. You're being awfully bossy for someone who wants a lecture."

"Just giving you some material," she teased, though her fingers hesitated over the buckles of her armor. She hadn't heard explicit consent, and she wanted him to  _want_ her. 

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, stepping toward her to brush her hands from her armor, replacing them with his own as his fingers worked deftly to unbuckle it. "Don't tell me you doubt my interest in you. I've wanted you for years."

"You could have said something," she said, stepping out of her boots as he undid the last clasp of her armor, leaving her in nothing but her smallclothes. "I didn't flirt with you because I  _didn't_ want to have sex with you."

"Fair enough." He pulled her closer and sucked a kiss into the bare skin of her shoulder. "I feel like an idiot for not doing this sooner, then."

"Take your coat off," she said, pulling him in for a brief kiss. "I want to make up for lost time."

 "You present a tempting argument," he said, unfastening his coat with the kind of precision that came after much practice. His shirt soon followed, and then he was down to his smalls as well. She had been appreciating the show, admiring the lean curve of his muscles, the strength that was so often hidden under layers. She also noted with some concern how skinny he was, but there was time for that after. She reached for her breastband, intending to pull it off, but he stopped her, backing her against the bed until she let herself fall against it. "Let me do the honors."

"Mm, you talk as though I'm a present to be unwrapped," she said, half a moan shuddering and singing its way up her throat as he cupped a clothed breast in one warm palm.

"One of the best I've received in years." He grinned. "What can I say, I'm partial to pussy in every form."

She thought about smacking him even as a breathless laugh bubbled up from her stomach, but she flopped the rest of the way onto his cot instead. "You're a bastard, making me laugh when we're having an  _intimate moment."_

He merely grinned, eyeing her with feline interest. 

She wiggled against the bedsheets until she could open her legs, bent knees spreading apart invitingly. "If I'm your present, come and receive it, why don't you?"

With a ferocious hunger she hadn't thought possible from him, he was upon her, their lips colliding with bruising force. She pulled him down on top of her and untangled his hair from the band that kept it partially up. It fell around his face like blinders for a horse - all he focused on was her, and she was laid bare before him.

Well, not  _quite_ bare.

"It curls a bit in the front," she said, still stupidly in awe of this most rare of sights even as he undid her breastband. 

"I have curlier, if you'd like to investigate," he replied, gesturing lewdly. She smothered yet another giggle in the planes of his chest, sucking a kiss right above his nipple, satisfaction curling hazily in her brain as he groaned.

"Let me return the favor, you brat," he said, expression attempting irritation but falling somewhere around obnoxiously self-satisfied.

"Can't," she muttered into his collarbone right before she flipped them. He let out a rather adorable  _whumph_ sound, and she had to stifle her giggles in the soft of his stomach, content to leave marks increasingly lower. She was discovering so much delightful information, such as the ticklish pleasure he seemed to get when she nipped at his hip. "You're supposed to be lecturing me."

"So I am," he said. "But it seems I'm woefully inept when it comes to teaching the trappings of high society."

"You have plenty of experience teaching seduction, though, or so I've heard."

He grinned, easy and free, and she remembered the sadness that so often wrapped its fingers around his countenance. She swelled with warmth, joy that she could be a good distraction.

"Quite. And if you-  _Andraste!"_

"Not to be sacrilegious, but it's just me," Marian grinned, squeezing him through his smalls once more. His head fell back against his pillow, and she thought he made a very pretty picture indeed.

She coaxed his smalls down with all the impatience of a starved predator, which is to say that she nearly tore them completely in two. He made a small sound of protest, but she waved him off, eyes instead fixating on her prize.  _Maker,_ what a prize it was!

She gave him an experimental luck, relishing his taste and the way he curved beneath her, a bow aching for release. His cock was heavy in her mouth as she swallowed him down, thick and long in a way that primed her whole body for pleasure.

”Maker’s balls, is this what you backwater Fereldens do to pass the time?” Anders gasped, still mouthy. That was okay. She could fix that.

”Mm.” She hummed around him in assent, swallowing both the precum leaking off his cock and a smile as he swore.

Then he was pulling her off him like he was saving his own skin; to be fair, he probably was.

”If you want me to last long enough to sate your own apparently unquenchable desire, I suggest we swap places,” he said, cheeks flushed and panting. “If you’re still interested in that lecture, I can spell it out for you.”

”Sounds  _deliciously_ informative,” she teased, but she readily flipped, hand tangling in the burnished red-gold of his sweat curled hair as he licked his way down.

He ate her out like a man possessed. Her mind was too pleasure fogged to make sense out of much, but he made good on his promise to lecture, as she caught a couple key words like  _minx_ and  _desire_ spelled with great precision along her slit. Her grip tightened, unwilling to let him go when he worked his magic like this. She tasted fire in her throat, ice in the dampness where she licked her lips, suddenly parched.

An unhappy whine clawed its way up her throat when he pulled away, lips slick and shiny with her arousal and stretched into a self-important grin.

”Now for the main event,” Anders said.

”Cute that you think you’re in control just because you’re on top,” she retorted.

”Prove me wrong, then,” he said, and entered her.

Marian thought that, perhaps, this is what the Maker’s side felt like. If so, she was going to attend Chantry services immediately.

Or after they decided that sex wasn’t  sin.

She clenched around him, grinning victoriously at the fucked out sound he made, his arms shaking with the strain of keeping himself propped up. She nipped at his throat again, right where a bruise was beginning to flower, and turned once more so she straddled him, victorious.

She rocked down on him slowly, torturing both of them until Anders pulled her into an inflammatory kiss. She could taste the both of them on her tongue, and she could no longer stand it, hips undulating furiously until, with a strangled cry, he came inside her, spilling capitulation. She followed soon after, their releases milking the other until she collapsed, spent, on top of him.

They stayed like that for a while, sweat cooling into tacky proof of their affair, breaths calming from labored to languid, her head tucked into the crook of his neck.

”Damn, I knew you couldn’t resist me,” Anders cut in, and Marian could practically taste the smugness in his voice. “I’ve still got it.”

She tweaked his nipple without raising her head, and, unbidden, the corners of her lips quirked into a smile as his laugh filled the small clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> visit me @ghostheirin on tumblr! i have commissions open, and im thinking of finally opening tarot readings on that blog!
> 
> ya boy gotta eat
> 
> also, be nice to me. this is my first time writing smut dhdhdjjckd


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